by Albert Able
“Hang on, Maurice.”
Alex was standing close to a blue police van. “Can you get me to the Tour Eiffel right away?” he asked the hovering driver.
“No problem, Commander.” The driver smiled, glad to have the excuse to leave another danger area.
“Alright Maurice, I’ll be with you in...” he looked at the driver: “How long?”
“It’s quite a way but at least there is no traffic,” the young man smiled, “say twenty minutes?”
“Make that fifteen,” Alex winked at the driver.
“About fifteen minutes, Maurice, and don’t do anything until we get there, alright?”
“Quick as you can,” Maurice whispered. “The other lifts are not operational at the moment but you will see that there is a special lift to the Restaurant and it’s still in service. Take that. I’ll see you up here.”
It was just dark and Paris was almost clear of traffic, so the driver, urged by Alex to ‘use the opportunity to break every rule in the book’, demonstrated enthusiastically just how quickly he could cross the City. He drove via a multitude of well lit winding streets, jumped across pavements then along one way avenues and charged through pedestrian precincts until he pulled up suddenly with a wild screech of brakes as three men stood in the middle of the road obstructing their way.
They could clearly see the automatic weapons the men were holding and pointing straight at the vehicle.
Alex pulled out his Browning pistol just as the young driver floored the accelerator. The van surged forward as the men raised their weapons but then the driver grabbed the hand brake and executed a perfect hand brake turn just metres from the men. A crescendo of tearing metal announced the discharge of three automatic weapons into the side rear of the van. Alex assumed that the driver would then leave the scene at full speed. So he was taken completely by surprise when the van careered backwards. The dull thud of flesh hitting the police van was clearly heard above the sound of a single short burst of automatic fire.
Alex thrust his gun hand through the window but not seeing any targets flipped the handle on the door and rolled into the street.
Two men lay crumpled and wedged under the van. Their weapons could not be seen. The third gunman stood, obviously dazed and still trying to comprehend how the situation had so suddenly changed.
Alex on the other hand did not hesitate, raised his weapon and fired two rapid shots into the man’s chest. The man winced, the weapon tumbled from his hands as he keeled over backwards, hitting the ground just as the young police driver appeared from the other side of the van, a look of terror on his young face.
Alex stood up quickly moving to the dead men, gave each a cursory nudge and satisfied they were no longer any threat ordered. “Back to the van.”
Moving in a sort of dream the young driver climbed into the van and looked absently ahead.
“Okay son, that was a bloody marvellous manoeuvre,” Alex placed a comforting hand on the young shoulder, “but now we have to chase some other bad men.” He patted the shoulder again. “Think we can do the rest of the way to the Eiffel Tower in under five minutes?”
The young police driver slowly turned his face to Alex with tears running down his face. “I killed them, didn’t I?”
“Yes you did,” Alex paused, “and you saved my life at the same time.”
The young driver took several deep breaths, then his face slowly turned towards Alex.
With a weak smile he said: “I’d only ever read about those hand brake turns in a motor magazine.”
Soon afterwards they pulled up under the massive symbol of French industrial magnificence, the Eiffel Tower.
Timed at nine minutes exactly Alex congratulated the driver but secretly thanked the good Lord for his deliverance. The young driver on the other hand was quite obviously still numbed by the whole traumatic event.
Several other vehicles were parked haphazardly in the square under the great tower but Alex noted that there did not appear to be any other police vehicles yet.
Several uniformed private security guards hovered at the foot of each of the massive iron legs supporting the tower.
The Jules Vernes Restaurant has its own unique access via an elevator in one of the legs. Alex ran over to one of the security guards and was about to explain his presence when the guard looked up.
“Commander Scott?”
“That’s right,” Alex confirmed.
“I’ve been holding the elevator to the restaurant for you.” He pressed the call button and the double gated cage opened immediately. “Be careful up there. The main power has gone down so there is only the emergency lighting for the moment. Just press the green flashing ascend button.”
The Security guard pointed at the illuminated button and moved away.
Alex stepped into the cage, the young driver tried to follow, but Alex pushed him gently back and smiled reassuringly.
“I think you’ve had enough excitement for the moment, but I would be grateful if you would stand-by here until I figure out what is happening up there,” he pointed towards the first level and pressed the green button with his other hand. The gates rattled shut and the elevator immediately lurched into motion moving smoothly towards the first floor.
Alex was apprehensive, there seemed to be something strange about Maurice’s tone and his secretive attitude, which tempted him to think that perhaps Maurice could being held hostage. Had he been forced to invite Alex into a trap?
Alex Scott had survived in so many similar situations because he had always tried to be prepared for any eventuality; he carefully pulled his pistol out of its holster, checked the chamber, carefully reloaded and pushed back the safety catch just as the elevator stopped and the door rattled open.
Alex stepped quietly on to the landing, which was illuminated by the emergency lights only and so he easily side stepped into the deep shadow to one side of the elevator giving him a clear view of the unlit Jules Verne Restaurant sign over its entrance.
Alex waited in silence for over a minute and then as he moved cautiously out of the shadow, Maurice’s voice called out, breaking the silence: “Is that you, Alex? In here, Alex, it’s quite safe now.”
Alex’ senses noted the direction of the voice; the only other sound was the elevator returning to the ground.
Illuminated by the emergency lighting alone Alex could still see much of the tables and seating arranged along the panoramic windows as he entered the restaurant.
“So what did you find, Maurice?” Alex called back, walking slowly towards the nearest table, his pistol hand hanging discreetly at his side.
“Well there isn’t a bomb, Alex, and whatever else you will undoubtedly be going to think of me I have ensured that there will be no nuclear explosions in this city,” Maurice replied.
“Oh, and you won’t need that gun, so I suggest that you slowly put it on the floor. I have you covered, so please don’t try anything clever. Just put it carefully on the floor and step over to the window on your right.”
Alex could not see or even guess where Maurice was and had little choice but to comply. He carefully put the pistol on the floor and moved to the window, as instructed.
“Oh, my poor Maurice! So when did they recruit you?”
“I’m sorry too, Alex, but you know how they work. I thought they were finished and that it was all over two years ago and then suddenly they made contact.”
Maurice was clearly moving cautiously around, but still remained out of sight in the shadows. “I really thought that I could retire and never hear from them again, but it was not to be. I really did want to bring you here to sample the fine dining - but alas, that is not to be either.”
“So, Maurice, just what is it the Syndicate require you to do? You’ve already told me there is no bomb, so what is it?”
Alex was no fool and realised that Maurice’s orders must be to assassinate Alex Scott.
“Oh dear,” Alex exclaimed in exasperation. “I’m being a bit slow, aren’t I? Maurice, you’ve been ordered to kill me, yes?”
“Listen Alex, I don’t have any alternative. They have my daughter and grandchildren somewhere. You know they don’t bluff, but they do reward duty done, so I have no choice.”
“Just one thing Maurice...” Alex asked conversationally and dived for the shadow behind a waiter’s station near the window.
A single shot rang out, the heavy bullet slamming into the wall close to Alex’s foot as he scurried on hands and knees deeper into the shadows amongst the tables and chairs.
“It’s no good Alex. You can’t hide, and I can’t give up.”
Alex remained perfectly still his heart pounding in his chest; the silence was briefly interrupted by the sound of Maurice presumably stumbling into some chairs which was followed by a muted curse but Alex also noted another sound, the elevator was docking at the restaurant stage again.
Alex called out prior to wriggling to a different position: “Looks like the Captain and his troops have arrived, Maurice, so why don’t you give up before someone gets hurt?”
“Wrong again, I’m afraid, Alex. There is no cavalry, I didn’t call the Captain, so you see it’s just you and me.”
Two more shots hammered close to the area where he had been hiding but Alex did not move and remained silent, his only chance was to try and out manoeuvre Maurice by luring him close enough, but he was going to need a weapon of some kind.
It was impossible to see anything but chairs and table legs in his immediate area. He contemplated smashing a wooden chair to get one of the legs, but the noise was more likely to get him dispatched by the now paranoid Maurice.
Alex was desperate and contemplated blatantly surrendering in the hope of getting close enough to make a final lunge for Maurice’s gun. But even as he started to straighten his legs, the restaurant lights suddenly flickered on and the whole room was bathed in light.
Assuming Maurice had switched on the lights, Alex stood up.
“OK, Maurice, you win,” he called, with his hands up in surrender. “You win but please just do me one small favour.”
“So what would that be?” Maurice appeared from behind a tall screen near the kitchen entrance about fifteen metres away.
“What did you do to enable them to blackmail you? You had a perfect service record?”
“Can’t do that Alex,” Maurice raised his gun. There was no escape - the range was too short for any dive to cover to be effective.
The double tap of a heavy calibre semi-automatic pistol somewhere just behind Alex made him flinch, but not enough to avoid seeing the look of shocked surprise on Maurice’s face. The gun rolled over his hand but remained hooked on his trigger finger as the impact of the nine millimetre shells slammed him against the wall.
He managed a half turn to see his tormentor. Alex also looked in the same direction and was amazed to see Igor Pulaski with another man he did not recognise, but he did note that the semi-automatic Luger held in Igor’s hand was still pointing at Maurice.
Alex looked back at Maurice who was collapsing to the ground, his gun still hanging loosely in his hand. As he fell, a dark red smear of blood spread on the wall behind him.
Scattering several chairs and tables aside, Alex pushed across to where Maurice now lay in an ungainly heap, blood oozing from two massive exit wounds in his back. He was barely conscious.
“Why, Maurice, why?” Alex pleaded, but Maurice was beyond help, his mouth moved as he tried to speak but there was no sound, and after only a few more seconds his eyes closed for the last time.
Alex stood up slowly and looked at Igor. “Am I glad to see you.”
Igor and the stranger joined Alex and stood looking down at the body of former Police Officer Maurice Bouchard.
At that moment there was another movement at the entrance to the restaurant as Hassan Eddie and Amir Kahlie stepped cautiously into the light.
“Good gracious, talk about the ‘cavalry’! And am I glad to see you all! No doubt you’ll tell me just how you managed to pull of such a miraculous rescue?”
Igor laughed and stepped forward to shake Alex’s hand. “Very easy really,” he gripped Alex’s hand in a vice-like grip. “The Boss told me you were not to be trusted, you’re always getting into deep water, he said. So I thought I better bring you a life belt.” Igor smiled and pointed to the silent stranger.
Alex acknowledged the stranger with a nod. “OK, but just how?”
“Friends, Alex, friends.” Igor turned to the gunman who had only just holstered his weapon and was unbuckling the shoulder harness.
The man spoke quietly and without smiling. “I must go now, don’t like to be too close to the law.” He handed the harness and gun to Igor: “One of you will have to admit to killing him. It’s up to you.” He nodded briefly without expression, turned and headed to the lift.
“Thank you,” Igor called to the retreating gunman while thoughtfully balancing the gun and harness in his hand. “I think you had better have this, Alex. In the circumstances you will have to say that you shot him in self defence.”
Alex accepted the weapon. “That’s fine, but I think someone better tell me just what exactly is happening.”
Igor pulled up a chair. “We may as well sit while I tell you. No doubt your special police will arrive eventually!”
They all sat around one of the large round restaurant tables, as Igor explained how he had become involved.
“You see, Alex, it’s all to do with friends - and thankfully, I have many.” Igor grinned. “I do a lot of business with some Italian friends, people who do not always observe all those ridiculous European Regulations, designed it seems to me to make business less competitive and certainly less profitable. Fortunately they also have access to other services and information; so when my friend in Northern Italy told me that they had been invited to carry out a contract to kill SONIC agent Alex Scott, and knowing that their agent was my friend, he contacted me immediately. Fortunately, they no longer get involved in that sort of thing, except as my friend explained, for the occasional little bit of ‘in-house discipline’. “Anyway, having refused the contract and because it had been at the apparent request of an old client or at least someone claiming to be the Syndicate, my friend contacted me immediately to warn me that because they had refused the business, it would almost certainly end up being offered to one of the less ethical criminal elements currently roaming our streets.
“They knew the hit was to be in Paris and they also knew that their French colleagues had a reliable contact within the force there. So I hot footed it here and was met by the man who has just left. I was also put in touch with Captain Aubin Le Grand, where I also met Hassan and Amir who told me that you had come here to meet Maurice Bouchard.”
Igor nodded at the stiffening corps of the police Lieutenant. “Seems he was nothing like the honest old time copper everyone thought him to be.” He looked back at Alex. “There was also an attempt on your life yesterday evening, yes? Well, that was organised by Maurice and when it failed he was obliged to try and finish it himself. My contact here in Paris volunteered to ride shotgun with us, and thank goodness he did. And that’s about it.” Hassan used Igor’s silence to chip in: “And that also means that there is no bomb here in Paris. The whole thing was a gigantic bluff.”
Lieutenant Maurice Bouchard of the Paris police was not the virtuous officer he had managed to make his employers believe. Although he was not a big time collaborator with the crime gangs, he had, over the whole of his career, managed to maintain his life of fine dining and exquisite wines together with the benefit of several sexy young mistresses. The criminal underworld knew about him, of course, but just how the Syndicate
entrapped him, no-one ever knew.
Although grateful for his own salvation, Alex Scott was even more relieved to know that the bomb, as in the Moscow threat, was a terrible hoax.
As usual Alex seemed to shrug away any personal emotion and re focused on the current situation. “Igor, my friend, I definitely owe you one. But now that the danger is now. I think we had better let the authorities deal with the clearing up operation here.”
Igor raised his hands dismissively and remained silent.
Alex took out his mobile. “I better call the Boss; he is not going to be happy knowing that the whole thing here in Paris was just a massive bluff or decoy. So the question is: where is the Syndicate going to lure us next? And will it be yet another bluff?”
Within the hour the authorities accepted that the whole episode had been a gigantic hoax and Paris, together with the rest of an anxious world, slowly started to return to normal.
***
Rudi sat at his computer seething with anger as he read the report of what he considered to have been a carefully prepared plan to place the bomb in Paris and also eliminate Alex Scott both of which had had failed so miserably.
The threat of the nuclear bomb, however, he conceded had been enough to create the mother of all panics, which had been his father’s prime aim.
Rudi, of course, knew that the bomb he had entrusted to the people in Paris had, like the one in Moscow, only a small charge of plastic explosive. But the really frustrating issue was the fact that the former Syndicate agent, in spite of the threats to his family, had not only failed to place the bomb but had failed so miserably to kill Alex Scott. Rudi knew his father was going to have a fit when all the facts came to light.
His sisters commiserated with him. “How such a brilliant plan could have misfired is astonishing, but hey Rudi, we have time on our side and that smug agent doesn’t know who we are, so we can do it all again and have loads of fun watching it happen. Yes?”